


borrow my heart

by cathedralhearts



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evgeni wakes up one morning in November, well before his alarm is due to go off -- it’s still dark outside. Coach has made noises about giving him a maintenance day soon, as he’s been feeling a little sluggish lately, and he thinks maybe today is the day to cash that particular cheque when he’s up and out of bed, racing for his toilet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	borrow my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hopelessly inspired by gigantic's [The Surprise Plan series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/61345). I love me some mpreg when it's done well, and that series is done so very, very well. Hopefully mine comes out half as great. 
> 
> This is set during the 09-10 season and a few things have been moved around. For reference, Sidney is 21 and Geno is 22. 
> 
> It started off as one of four shorter fics I was going to post together, looking at pregnancy from a few different angles (unplanned, planned, unplanned and unwanted, etc) but I had a few more ideas for this pairing and it kind of grew...a lot. I'm still working on the others, so they'll eventually get posted as well. 
> 
> Thanks to vlieger for letting me chat this at you. I know you don't like this trope, so you're a sunbeam.

_a recessive gene_

\--

Evgeni wakes up one morning in November, well before his alarm is due to go off -- it’s still dark outside. Coach has made noises about giving him a maintenance day soon, as he’s been feeling a little sluggish lately, and he thinks maybe today is the day to cash that particular cheque when he’s up and out of bed, racing for his toilet, bile pushing at the back of his throat. 

“Jesus,” he moans in English after he’s done, rising on unsteady legs to wash his mouth out and stumble back into his bedroom, tripping over Jeffrey in the process and into his bed. When he wakes up to his alarm next time, he’s rushing to his bathroom again and wonders if those blintzes he ate yesterday were off. He texts the team doctor that he’s got a stomach bug and won’t be coming in, and then calls Seryozha and whines that he needs Ksenia to come over and nurse him back to health.

“What, so you can spread your disease around my family? Hell no, look after yourself.”

The sound Evgeni makes is so pathetic, so utterly pathetic that even _he’s_ ashamed, and Seryozha sighs long-sufferingly and says he’ll ask.

Of course, by the time she comes around at 10:30, he feels absolutely fine and irritated he’s wasted a day.

“Maybe it was just a 24-hour thing?” she says, putting the soup she’d bought over in the fridge, turning on the kettle.

“Maybe,” Evgeni echoes, and spends the next two hours talking to her about the family, promising to come over in a few nights for dinner-- once they get back from Florida.

 

Sidney texts him later that afternoon, when he’s sacked out on the couch with Jeffrey and Dixi watching a rerun of _Iron Man_. He knows Evgeni hates talking on the phone, so they do most of their communication either face-to-face or by text. It suits both of them just fine.

He asks how he is, and Evgeni wrinkles his nose and figures a little embellishment won’t hurt-- maybe Sidney will come over and give him a little TLC of the sexy variety. He sniggers at himself, and ignores the purely judgemental looks from his animals-- he never claimed to be smooth when it comes to his captain. He says instead that he’s feeling better but is still sad, and waits. Sidney replies with:

_That’s good! I’d come over, but I don’t want to get sick too ((_

Disappointing, but hey -- at least Evgeni’s influence is making an impact _somewhere_ that it matters, with the use of smilies. They text back and forth until Evgeni gets tired, heading upstairs to change into his pajama pants and turn the television on so he can sink into sleep with background noise.

*

The next morning, he’s sick again but struggles through, showering and making his way into the rink, trusting that he’ll feel better by the time he hits the ice. He limits his intake to Gatorade and water, and not much of either, and if anyone notices they don’t say anything.

It’s enough being back on the ice anyway-- he skates hard to make up for lost time but feels dizzy and nauseous by the end, which fucking sucks. This bug, whatever it is, won’t fuck off and it’s going to mess with his game. 

He’s bent over a trash can, purging the water and Gatorade he’s been swilling all morning, when a hand lands on the middle of his back. He finishes and looks over his shoulder to see Sidney looking concerned.

“You okay, G?” he asks, and Evgeni shakes his head and turns back to his trash can. Sidney leaves him alone, but one of the team doctors appears once he’s able to straighten up and wash his mouth out with a nearby water bottle, looking disapproving.

“I think-- better, today?” Evgeni tries, and the doctor just frowns and hands over some pills and a powdered drink to help get his levels back up or something. Evgeni takes them both with thanks, and heads off back to the locker rooms. 

 

The game against San Jose is shithouse. Evgeni feels sick and off-balance the entire time he’s on the ice, and it shows in his game. He finishes the night with minus points, after playing like crap and getting in a fight with Pavelski -- the fuckface has been slashing him all goddamned night and the referees are blind this far west, apparently -- and slinks off to his hotel room after loading up on chicken and pasta. 

He crashes hard before Seryozha returns and ignoring the look on Sidney’s face when he turns him down watching TV in his room, Duper off being French and annoying with Flower. Sidney won’t let Evgeni touch him when they’re on road trips anyway; the hardest they go is usually some heavy petting that Sidney loves, but he won’t budge on the orgasms. It’s painful and the longer roadies end in blue balls and begging as soon as they cross Sidney’s threshold at Mario’s. 

He’s up at 6:30 anyway to be sick again, and Seryozha appears in the doorway as he’s flushing and clutching at the sink, washing his mouth out.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, yawning loudly and scratching his belly.

“If you think I knew, I’d still be doing this shit?” Evgeni snaps back, and Seryozha rolls his eyes but helps Evgeni back to bed, shadowing him the rest of the day once they leave for the airport -- completely unnecessary but appreciated.

Once the bus drops them off at the rink, Evgeni heads straight for his car and home, climbing into bed and falling into a fitful sleep.

*

It goes on for another week, waking up at dawn to be sick and then feeling off-kilter for the rest of the day. Sidney and Seryozha gang up on him after the game against the Senators goes sour, Evgeni not even managing to get stick on puck for a loss that ends 6-2 in the Sens’ favour.

“You’re still sick. Get the doctors to do tests,” Sidney orders him and Seryozha nods, crossing his arms. Evgeni mutters something rude under his breath and Seryozha kicks out at him, frowning hard, and he sighs and nods.

“Yes, I get test--” he starts, blanching as Sidney holds out a small container with a determined look.

“Piss test, do it. _Now_.”

Evgeni’s working himself up gather as much English to yell at Sidney for mothering him, when Seryozha puts a hand on his shoulder and looks disappointed in that way fathers do best.

“Don’t fuck with your health, Zhenya. Just do the test, go get some blood taken and keep up your fluids. Let the doctors help you get better,” he says, and Evgeni loses all of his bluster and sags into his stall.

 

Seryozha has to tag along when he hands in the cup and sits down to have blood taken, to help him translate the harder questions the doctor asks.

“Are you sexually active?” she asks as she draws the needle from his arm. 

“Yes,” he says dutifully, and she’s writing something on the blood vial when she says, “And are you sexually active with men?”

Seryozha stutters a little translating, but Evgeni-- he knows _exactly_ what she said.

“Why?”

“Because, men can get pregnant too and what you’re describing sounds to me like morning sickness. So, have you been sexually active with a man recently?”

“Men-- what--” Evgeni’s at a loss. Since when can _men_ carry babies?

“Your cousin Aleksy, idiot.” Seryozha looks uncomfortable, but moreso at the fact Evgeni seemed to forget he has a cousin who gave birth a few years back. The only reason he even knows is because his mother mentioned he was pregnant again last time she was over, Seryozha and his family joining them for dinner; they’re expecting twins this time. Aleksy moved to Germany with his then-boyfriend as soon as he found out the first time around. No such thing as being a happy, pregnant gay man in Russia. 

“He has a cousin who is-- who carries the gene. Family,” Seryozha explains to the doctor, who nods.

“If you’ve got a family member who carries it, it’s more likely you will as well. Anyway, we’ll run tests for everything and see you in two days. Just take it easy, avoid seafood and coffee and lay off practise if you can. I’ll speak to the coaching staff--”

“ _No!_ Is okay-- I’m fine,” Evgeni hurries, and the doctor purses her lips but nods, slipping the last blood vial into a sterile bag.

“If you’re pregnant--” Seryozha starts as they leave, but Evgeni silences him with a look.

“I’m not pregnant, don’t say shit like that. I’ve just got a virus, a bug. It’ll be gone by next week.” And he means it, so help him God.

*

It doesn’t help that he spends the next two days trying to remember if Sidney wore a condom last time they slept together. The timeline fits, something a traitorous part of his brain keeps trying to force him to acknowledge. He focuses instead on frowning as he lies back in bed, Jeffrey slumped over his thighs, thinking.

They were both frustrated and drunk off the back of their first loss of the season against the Yotes after a long summer of missing each other, and Sidney wore pants that were sinfully tight when they went out to a bar afterwards. Evgeni was more wasted and pliable than usual, thanks to shit vodka and Jordy being a pain in his goddamned ass about scoring one of the only goals. 

They had fucked when they got back to Sidney’s (read: Mario’s third floor), Evgeni not wanting to go home alone. They usually did it the other way around but Evgeni was feeling flirty and up for something different, and insisted Sidney topped. His memories were blurry and dark, mostly about the feel of something inside him, foreign and all consuming, so he hadn’t concentrated on much else. He just has blurred thoughts of Sidney dropping kisses along his knees, slung over his shoulders as he pounded away, shuddering and moaning his name. 

A look down at his body shows his dick hasn’t responded to the sexy memories at all, and he’s not sure what worries him more-- this phantom illness or the fact his dick is broken. Jeffrey just snuffles against his stomach, unimpressed with his owner’s conundrum.

*

The doctor sees him two days later, to tell him the tests came back ‘inconclusive’ so she’s sending him to a specialist in Philadelphia.

“Why Philly?” he asks, and she says something about them being more qualified to tell him what’s going on. Evgeni shares an uneasy look with Seryozha, but neither of them say anything further, instead getting in the car and making the drive to Philly in silence, the day stretching ahead between a win against the Flyers and the upcoming game against the Leafs.

Another smiling doctor named Dr. Li greets them and speaks in clear, precise English that Evgeni finds easier to follow and can answer more questions by himself.

It’s when she hands him a box with the name _Clearblue_ emblazoned on it and Seryozha says, “Oh, shit,” that Evgeni realises exactly who she is and what she does.

“I need you to pee on this stick, Mr. Malkin.”

Evgeni stands up and does as he’s told, mostly because it hasn’t really sunk in yet, coming out the bathroom and placing it on the sterile paper on the edge of her desk.

“Your blood test came back with some positive markers for pregnancy, Mr. Malkin, but male pregnancies are difficult and usually need more investigation. You’ve been sent to me because I specialise in these kinds of situation. First we try with a pregnancy test, and then more blood tests and an ultrasound if it’s still inconclusive,” she says. 

It’s then that Evgeni glances down at the stick, as the words “PREGNANT 3+ WEEKS” appear. It looks like there won’t be any more tests.

“Oh, shit,” Seryozha says again. 

“Male pregnancy is a result of a recessive gene, carried by 2% of the world’s male population. Under half of them will ever be in situations like this, and male pregnancies are so rare that there isn’t…” she starts, but Evgeni barely hears any of it. He’s staring at the floor instead, the carpet a soft blue pile that feels nice underneath his sneakers. He wonders if it’d feel as nice against his cheek, if he lied down on it. 

“Zhenya?” Seryozha asks, soft and unsure from next to him, as the doctor keeps talking.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he falls back on, safety in that. 

“You’re pregnant, Zhenya. You’re pregnant and you’re going to have a baby.” Seryozha still has the same tone of voice, but his eyes-- his eyes are saying something completely different.

His eyes are saying, _you’re going to have **Sidney Crosby’s** baby_ \-- like it’s a failure of his character to have allowed Sidney to put him in this position. He doesn’t know if Seryozha knows about exactly what he and Sidney get up to, so it’s mostly paranoia with a healthy dose of fear. If the Gonchars turn their back on him, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

“Can get rid?” he asks Dr. Li, cutting in on her monologue. She blinks and looks at Seryozha, who shrugs helplessly.

“According to your blood test markers, you’re close to your second trimester, Mr. Malkin. And I’m afraid it’s illegal--”

“Cannot get rid. Okay.” Any religious inclinations aside, it looks like he has no choice but to be pregnant with Sidney fucking Crosby’s baby. 

 

They leave the surgery with an appointment booked at a discreet OB GYN who ‘specialises’ even more in this situation in New York, a few pamphlets that Seryozha says he’ll get translated for him, and some suggestions for the sickness. He’d asked for a different doctor when she’d finished explaining everything -- because he refuses to be photographed leaving a clinic in Philly that fans can out him to Deadspin with. Whatever this is, he’s keeping it a secret until he figures out what the hell he’s going to do.

The drive back is awkward, and Evgeni doesn’t say anything until they’re inside his house, Seryozha following him inside and into the den, collapsing onto the couch next to him.

“At least this explains why you’ve been getting fat?” Seryozha tries, nudging his elbow against his ribs. Instead, Evgeni just breaks down into loud, noisy, horrible sobs that wrack his entire body. He curls in, and it’s obvious Seryozha is at a loss for what to do, the way he hovers, unsure of how to calm him. He’d feel sorry for him, if he wasn’t busy feeling sorry for himself.

“Oh, Zhenya,” he says and gathers him up, rocking him until Evgeni can stop crying -- not that it’s really in his ability right now. His whole life feels like it’s spinning wildly out of control. _He’s pregnant and 22, what the fuck._

“Is it Sidney’s?” Seryozha asks after a few moments, and Evgeni nods miserably. That answers that question, and he’s still here, so he praises God for small miracles. 

“Yeah. It was after the Coyotes loss, I think... we were drunk and I wanted something different and Sidney-- we’re both clean, I--” He can’t bring himself to continue.

At least now he knows how Aleksy felt when he had to tell their family he was pregnant. The paralysing fear of judgement and rejection from those around him, in the aftermath of an accident-- an out-of-control mistake that affected his life forever. It resulted in a wedding in Germany and now more children on the way, amongst married bliss… but somehow he doesn’t think the same result is waiting for him.

“You need to tell him. He needs to be involved, this is just as much his mistake as yours.”

He knows Seryozha is right, he really does. The reality is so much worse, though. 

“How am I supposed to explain? _Oh Sid, by the way, I’m knocked up with your bastard child, enjoy paying child support until it’s 18!_ ”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody cares about kids born out of marriage these days, and you’re young enough that you shouldn’t either,” Seryozha snaps, moving away to get Evgeni a glass of water and one of the pills the doctor gave him. He swallows it dutifully and sinks back into his couch, patting Jeffrey once he lumbers up into his lap.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, and Evgeni shrugs, moodily picking at some lint on Jeffrey’s collar. It’s starting to crack, he really needs to get him a new one.

“I don’t know.”

“...Are you going to keep it?”

“I said, I don’t know.”

Seryozha purses his lips, and Evgeni sighs and rubs his face. He’s being a brat and he knows it, but this is just so _big_ and so consuming. He doesn’t know how else to react. 

“I can’t get rid of it, so I’m going to have to go through with it, aren’t I? I’ll have to meet with the coaches and Mario. How am I going to explain this? I can barely deal with it in Russian, let alone English...” he moans, and Seryozha at least looks less pissed off now.

“Well, this appointment coincides with our trip to New Jersey, so you can probably sneak up to New York after practise. And I know you’ve got a Russian to English dictionary, brush up on some terms while you’re panicking,” Seryozha says, looking unimpressed.

*

He’s called into a closed-door meeting with Mario, Coach Dan and the team doctor next time he’s at the rink, all of whom are going out their way to look welcoming.

Evgeni knows the doctor’s told them about the test, so he just hands over the appointment card and says, “Have visit in New York, more doctors. Look at baby.”

“Who’s is it?” Dan asks, and Evgeni flushes a deep red. He darts a look at Mario, who’s looking concerned. Sidney had insisted they tell Mario once they decided they wanted to be together, at least having the firepower of one of the owners behind them. Mario had been supportive and happy when they told him, Sidney’s palm slick and shaking inside his. He wonders if that’s going to last much longer after this.

“It’s Sidney’s,” Mario says, once it’s clear Evgeni’s not going to answer, and Coach groans. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Out of everyone on the team, you pick 87?” he asks, looking like he wants to leap out the nearest window. 

“Well, we need to get their agents in here, figure out what the fuck we’re going to for damage control-- God, this means he’ll be out for the fucking playoffs...” Coach continues when Evgeni doesn’t reply and nobody else offers up a response. This situation is spinning wildly out of his control. Evgeni needs to lock this down _fast_.

“No,” he says, and they all stop talking and look at him.

“No what?” Mario asks, and Evgeni fists his hands against his knees.

“Not-- not telling. Have IR, have baby, back to hockey.”

Both Mario and Coach look like they very much want to dispute that, but the doctor cuts in and starts talking about making a plan-- he can probably keep playing hockey for a month if he avoids taking hits and overexerting himself, and they can create a special exercise plan for him. He’ll be diagnosed with a concussion that keeps him out the rest of the season once he starts to show too much; the end of January at the absolute latest. That means definitely no playoffs… and no Olympics. 

He’s not sure if crying in front of the coaching staff is the best move to convince them he’s still able to play, but the idea of missing _both_ is tearing him apart inside as he sits there, listening to them argue with each other. 

“This isn’t a smart idea, Geno. Sidney--” Mario starts, but Evgeni shakes his head.

“ _Not Sid problem_ , my problem.”

“Last time I checked, it takes two people to make a baby.” Mario is resonating calm, but his eyes are sharp and Evgeni knows he’s going to get fought on this. He just wants to bang his head against Coach’s desk, but resists and shakes his head instead.

“My problem, I fix. Have baby, play hockey. Done.”

 

The meeting doesn’t last much longer after that, everyone promising to remain discreet and assist him however they can. He gets back to the locker room where everyone’s dressing for practise, and Sidney smiles up at him when he walks in and it takes everything in him just to smile back, heading to his spot and reaching for his gear. 

They file out onto the ice and as soon as his blade scrapes against it, everything else melts away and he can finally just focus on something as simple and neat as his performance. Nothing else matters for the hour he’s here, setting up goals and working on rushes and power plays, Coach blowing his whistle and laughing with them. 

When he comes off the ice, he feels a little off but it’s manageable, so he keeps his head down and hits the showers, towelling down and stepping into his briefs as he wanders back out. 

“G?” Sidney’s voice floats from behind as he’s reaching into his locker for his street clothes, and he glances over his shoulder to see him standing there, his curls damp and framing a painfully earnest expression on his face.

“You wanna come over, after? We can play video games, you can stay for dinner… maybe the night?” he asks quietly, and Evgeni turns back and shuts his eyes, counting to ten to try and keep himself under control. The doctor said his emotions would be out of control for the rest of the pregnancy, something about the hormones and his body changing, so everything would be more intense than usual. Right now, he doesn’t know if he wants to break down and tell Sidney, or brush him off and try to ignore the inevitable hurt on his face, or shove him against the wall and kiss him until his mouth is bruised and red, begging for it as he grinds against Evgeni’s leg.

Instead, he chokes out an, “Okay,” and furiously tries to will away the shitty feelings when Sidney offers up a brilliant grin and ducks his head, wandering off to harass Seryozha and Jordy.

*~*

The night goes about as well as expected; Mario keeps _staring_ at him and it’s weird, so weird that even Sidney picks up on it and starts inspecting Evgeni more closely, even once they’ve escaped to the top floor and are safely tucked away in his rooms.

Dinner is pasta with Nathalie’s famous meatballs and sauce, which is nice and safe. There are wine glasses for the adults and apple juice for the kids, but Mario smoothly distracts Sidney with talk about an upcoming fundraiser so Nathalie can pour apple juice into his glass, switching to wine for Sidney when he finishes the conversation. He forces himself to breathe, hoping that this meal doesn’t end how he thinks it will.

The food is amazing, as usual, and Nathalie asks him to help her cut up the pie for dessert in the kitchen. He’s been lulled into a false sense of security having been left alone all night, and Sidney makes a noise like he’s going to help but is stilled when Evgeni puts a hand on his shoulder, patting him as he gets up and trots after Nathalie.

He gets plates down and opens the fridge for the cream, and when he turns back around Nathalie’s holding up a stack of books and some teas.

“These really helped me when I was pregnant,” she says quietly, showing him before she puts them in a bag. They’re self-help books or something, the covers all showing smiling women with rounded bellies and have been well-used, the corners bent and the spines cracked. The last one she shows him has a man on the front, his stomach rounded as well, and it’s new.

“Mario and I thought this would be helpful as well,” she says, before placing it in the bag and closing it tightly, leaving it on the counter.

“Thanks,” he grits out, feeling teary. The Lemieux family have put up with more of his shit than anyone, bar his own, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to repay them. Forcing them to keep this secret from Sidney has to be one of the worst things he’s ever asked of anyone.

“Mario understands, but I-- I know _why_ you’re doing this, Geno. He doesn’t get the pressure of carrying a baby, and everything that comes with it. The fear, wanting to do what’s right, your family and friends-- the expectations and your own health.”

He starts sniffling and Nathalie hands him a tissue then hugs him close, his arms wrapped around her until he feels safe enough to let go.

“I’m sorry--” he starts, but she shakes her head and puts a hand on his arm.

“Never apologise, Geno. We’ll do all we can for you -- and Sidney.”

 

After dinner, they hang around downstairs for a while and battle the kids on the XBox, before Sidney starts making extremely unconvincing yawns and elbowing Evgeni, to the point where Mario’s forced to step in and suggest bed for the professional athletes in the house, trying to keep the smile from spreading any further across his face.

He gets lost in his head following Sidney upstairs, his brow furrowed in concentration instead of enjoying the view of Sidney’s ass like he usually does. He’s kind of dreading this part, unsure of whether he can handle sex now, as his libido having dipped to a non-existent level. Also one of the joys of being pregnant is a complete disinterest in sex until a certain point. He figures he’ll be that bloated and swollen when it comes back that Sidney won’t want to be anywhere near him, so he should take advantage of it now.

Sidney pushes him up against the wall as soon as they get inside his room, on him like a man dying of thirst. Evgeni’s startled for a beat, but gets with it quick enough to kiss him back.

“Geno, fuck-- want you _so much_ ,” he moans, kissing hard and deep, his arms wrapping around Evgeni’s neck and shoving his thigh between his legs so he can get a good grind going. He knows that Sidney’s going to notice when his dick fails to respond, so he takes charge the only way he knows how, bossing Sidney back into the room, making sure to keep Sidney’s legs as far from his dick as possible. He tumbles him into the bed and unbuttons Sidney’s pants, kissing a line down his stomach to nuzzle against his briefs.

“Need you,” Sidney whines, yanking at his shirt, his curls wild and his eyes dark and focussed. Evgeni just nods, pulling his boxers down and taking Sidney as deep in his mouth as he can manage. Sidney keeps trying to drag him up but Evgeni refuses to budge, reaching for the lube and scissoring into Sidney as slowly and torturously as he can manage. 

Evgeni knows he’s going to get busted if he doesn’t make Sidney come soon, so he steps up his game, deepthroating and trying not to gag, his eyes watering as Sidney throws back his head and keens, coming hard as Evgeni tries to slide a fourth finger in his ass. 

He pulls off as Sidney’s dick twitches through the aftershocks, remembering himself enough not to wipe his mouth and hands on his shirt, needing them for tomorrow. He feels a wave of nausea hit him, and knows he’s got about twenty seconds to make it to the bathroom. He just manages to wet a flannel and throw it at Sidney’s prone body before he kicks the door shuts and leaves the faucet on to cover the sounds of his gagging. 

When he’s done, he gets to his feet and takes in his reflection, eyes rimmed-red and his mouth abused from Sidney’s dick. He washes his face, heading back into the bedroom and taking in Sidney, passed out and snoring softly, spread-eagled across the bed. 

He really doesn’t want to stay the night, because he’s pretty sure Sidney will try and wake him up with a blowjob tomorrow and his dick is dysfunctional enough right now-- besides, he doesn’t need Sidney busting the morning sickness along with the broken dick. So, he just presses a kiss to Sidney’s head and says he needs to go, can’t stay, and Sidney murmurs in his sleep and rolls over, hugging the pillow Evgeni slips into his arms as a replacement. Sidney will be pissed off tomorrow, but it can’t be helped.

Nobody busts him sneaking back downstairs, and he climbs into his car and heads back to his house to crawl into his cold bed and try not to feel guilty.

When he wakes up again there’s a text from Sidney, a solitary _((((_ that somehow makes him feel more guilty.

*

Sidney doesn’t invite him over again after that, Evgeni’s late-night departure having sent some sort of message to him. It’s worse, because he wants nothing more than to wake up every morning next to him, being strangled in his sleep -- Sidney’s personal space issues mean nothing in bed, or when it comes to Evgeni in general. He craves his touch right now but can’t-- that’s what got him into this situation in the first place.

He makes it to New York for his fourteen-week check up in January, ducking out of organising a team dinner and disappearing straight after practise with some help from Coach, who slaps his back and wishes him luck. His new doctor is an extremely tiny and intimidating Dr. Guerrera, and she’s pissed he’s still playing hockey and refuses to stop. 

“You’re going to start showing a lot soon, and then what?” she asks, as she takes more blood and sets up the ultrasound machine. Evgeni stubbornly refuses to think about it. She makes him stand sideways to a mirror, and he knows what’s waiting for him-- his stomach has already started to pop, a paunch taking up residence. He’s never been really toned, but it’s so much worse now, having already made him cry twice in the past week. 

The ultrasound is no better-- there, on the screen, is a tiny person growing inside him. She says Evgeni’s tracking well and the baby looks healthy. She proposes another check up for a few more weeks, and Evgeni consults his schedule-- he’s supposed to be playing the Senators at that point, so he pushes it back a few days and heads back to the airport. At least the morning sickness has stopped, but the restrictions on his diet are killing him. He doesn’t drink much coffee but being completely banned from the stuff is like dangling a carrot in front of a horse, and avoiding seafood is easier said than done. 

When the Olympics squads are announced at the end of December, Evgeni’s name nestled between Sanja and Pasha’s, the prospect of him being unable to pull on national colours hurts even more than before. He’ll be too far gone come February; his gear won’t sit right and he’ll worry the entire time, his mind a thousand miles from his skating and his team. Everyone cheers and claps and they go out-- but there is nothing to celebrate, not for him. 

Evgeni sits in a corner and sulks over a drink of water masquerading as vodka, while Seryozha sighs in his ear and bitches about him not having told the selectors he can’t compete.

“What’s the point? I tell them I’m pregnant, I never get selected again. No, the injury I will mysteriously suffer is good enough.”

Sidney watches but doesn’t come close-- instead, he sticks with Jordy and Flower and TK, who shake him and speculate about Vancouver and how many goals will be scored, loudly chirping Evgeni and Seryozha about how Russia won’t even make it out the group stages. He chirps half-heartedly back, bowing out early and demanding Seryozha take him home. 

 

Christmas and New Year’s are torture as well but he battles through, his teammates too hammered to notice that he isn’t drinking and is still being picky with his food. Sidney, on the other hand, keeps sending him miserable looks the entire fucking time, but they went home alone and didn’t speak. Evgeni curses himself to the heavens and back for things getting like this. He misses Sidney-- the conversation, the easy intimacy of their relationship, even his weird routines and schedules. He just _misses_.

He hasn’t even managed to tell his parents, yet he knows every time his mother calls she can hear the guilt in his voice, but that’s the one thing she doesn’t press on. She just talks about the family and what Denis is up to with his girlfriend, and asks how Sidney and the team are doing. He says a simple “good,” for both and changes the subject to his offseason plans, and she actually lets him for once. When he hangs up, he stares up at his ceiling and wonders how long he can keep this shit up-- if he doesn’t go mad from the stress first.

*

He’s onto his fifteenth week as January slowly cedes to February, measuring his life in increments now.

It’s been four weeks since he last touched Sidney’s body, when not on the ice-- the same since he’s last had a kiss from Sidney’s ridiculous mouth. Five weeks since Seryozha started looking at him with a mixture of disappointment and worry on his face. Four weeks since Coach began to ask how he was feeling _every fucking day_. Two weeks since his favourite pair of jeans stopped being comfortable, his stomach getting bigger and more difficult to hide. His chest protector has started to rub against the top of his stomach, and the undershirts he wears are doing little to prevent the soreness.

Unbelievably, he’s still managing to play hockey. The medical staff know, Coach knows, and they all look at him like he’s crazy, like he’s risking something he has no business to be risking, but it’s _hockey_ and he can’t give up without a fight.

It’s difficult but he just goes out less, is stricter with what he eats and changes after everyone’s gone. It means opening himself up to the press more so he’s forced to stay longer, avoiding the team’s eyes and questions, which always sucks-- but his vocabulary is increasing a little, finding it easier to speak to the scrum when they descend on him.

It’s still awkward and weird, but nobody’s asking about his change in personality, in _routine_ , and he’s so glad for it.

*

It all falls apart in two stages, and Evgeni has probably done well for having something this big be a secret for this long, eating away at him inside until there’s nothing left.

The first blow comes when he’s streaking down towards the goal on home ice against the Red Wings for the final game in January. Howard’s crouched down, his eyes following Evgeni’s every stick handle, and he’s so focussed on trying to find a hole to slam the puck into that he doesn’t see Abdelkader come up his left side, crunching him face-first into the boards.

The first thought in his head is _fuck_ , as he blinks and tries to get his bearings back, and the second is the deep, hot pain that spreads across his gut. “The baby,” he chokes out to himself and struggles to his feet, making it to the bench but bypassing it completely as he heads straight down the tunnel with the trainers.

“My stomach--” he gets out, wincing as the pain comes back, and he gasps, slamming sideways against the wall and almost taking himself out. 

“We need to get him to the hospital--” he hears, before the world goes fuzzy and dark.

*~*

The scans confirm the baby’s still okay but he’s not allowed back on the ice again. Dr. Li is there when he finishes his scans, having driven in from Philly just to yell at him -- nicely, but the disapproval on her face is enough.

“You shouldn’t have been playing past the second you found out you were pregnant, especially not this far. No more hockey -- you’re on IR until you give birth.” 

Nobody says anything, especially not Evgeni, who just picks at the bedspread and nods dutifully until she leaves. 

They release him with strict instructions to spend the next two days in bed and avoid stress-- even going so far as to give him a bedpan. As he’s leaving, he sees Coach telling the press that he’s at the hospital with a suspected concussion and could be out for the rest of the season. He gets what they’re doing, building a narrative and he’s thankful for it, but it means as he gets back to the rink to grab his gear, most of the boys are still in the rooms.

“So?” Duper asks as he comes to stop by his stall, and he shakes his head as slowly as he can manage, knowing he’s supposed to be pretending to have a concussion. 

He just wants a shower, still sweaty from the game, and takes off his shirt and reaches for his towel and shower gear, his back to the room and carefully angled to hide as much of his stomach as he can. 

 

The second blow comes when Jordy sees him changing after, dropping his arm guards in surprise at the state of Evgeni’s body. He’s less careful than he has been before, getting undressed and not working hard to hide his stomach behind towels and clothes, not angling himself enough; too drained from the day and the prospect of months stretching ahead with no hockey, no fun, no _life_.

“Jesus G, lay off the pierogies for a while, eh? You need to go to fat camp and move that beer belly!” he hoots and Evgeni freezes, clutching his towel to his chest. It’s too late.

“What?” he croaks. Seryozha is trying to hustle over, but he’s blocked off by Guerin and Fedotenko, and then Sidney appears with a frown on his face.

“Are you okay, Geno?” he asks, even going so far as to reach a hand out and rest it on his arm. Sidney’s taken to looking at him with increasing despair the past few weeks-- as if the idea Evgeni doesn’t _want_ him anymore is more than he can deal with. He hasn’t approached him, hasn’t even tried, and Evgeni both appreciates and hates it so much. He just wants Sidney-- wants things to get back to normal. He’s so tired. 

He blames it on the hormones as an excuse for dropping the towel and watching Sidney’s eyes go large as they sink to his midsection, distended from what’s growing inside of him. 

“No, not okay. I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

The locker room is silent, so silent you could hear a pin drop, and everyone’s eyes are on him and Sidney. He can hear Coach and the assistants walking down the corridor before coming into the room, stopping near the doorway at the whole team frozen in a freakish tableau.

“What’s going on?” Coach asks slowly. Someone mutters something to him and he swears.

“Sid?” he asks, his bottom lip wobbling. If Sidney rejects him-- fuck, he still hasn’t told his parents, Seryozha is the only one in the club who knows, beside the doctor and half the staff, and now the entire fucking team, and he can’t do this by himself anymore. He needs--

“Yeah?” Sidney asks, his hand moving from where it’s clenched around Evgeni’s arm to rest on his stomach, cupping the bottom of his belly. He does look like he’s got a beer gut and Sidney moves in closer, his hand spreading out to cover the swelling entirely. Like there’s nothing there, if they try hard enough to ignore it. 

“How far along?” he asks, his eyes zoned in on Evgeni’s midsection, that same focus he wears on the ice or in bed; like nothing else matters but what’s there to be taken and won. 

“F… eh, four month. Almost,” he says, barely daring to breathe. 

“Four months?” he exclaims, and Evgeni winces as it echoes around the room.

“Wasn’t-- didn’t know until three month, had one month freak out. Baby okay, not hurt, just check to be okay,” he says, knowing he needs to explain himself, and Sidney’s shaking his head again but he’s _smiling_ now.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” he asks. Evgeni snivels a little at the idea of Sidney with a tiny child in his arms, cooing and badly singing lullabies to. _Their_ tiny child.

“Yeah, Sid. We gonna be a dad. If want.”

“Of course I want it, Geno.” Sidney doesn’t even hesitate, that brilliant smile turned up at him, and Evgeni feels like he’s just won the Stanley again. 

The sound comes back into the room, everyone exploding into cheers and congratulations, and the staff are still pissed he insisted on playing for so long-- so is Sidney, _oh boy is he mad_ , but the baby is healthy and Sidney hasn’t left him. He’s not alone. 

Of course, Sidney demands they go back to Mario’s, where they celebrate again and then Sidney drags him upstairs and starts yelling. Evgeni gets into bed and waits for Sidney, as he snaps at Evgeni for keeping it a secret while he tugs on his pajamas, crawling in next to him.

“It’s my baby too, what were you going to do?” he asks, and Evgeni sighs. He’s known this was coming for a long time, and still is no better prepared. They’re so painfully young-- Sidney’s only just turned 21, and the baby will be born before his next birthday. The only thing that makes him dig his heels in, makes him _want_ to make it work, is because Sidney does.

“Was gonna be IR, stay at New York, have baby, come back for end of playoffs maybe. Not think about after,” Evgeni shrugs, and Sidney elbows him.

“G, you’re gonna get so out of shape. It’ll take you more than a couple of weeks to get back into the right space. You’re out until next season, for sure.” Sidney says it all while rubbing his stomach, and Evgeni bites his lip and tangles his fingers in his hair, smiling at the feeling. Smiling because he gets to do this, after weeks of being without. 

“Olympics are next month,” Sidney says a few moments later, and Evgeni sighs. He’s well aware.

“I know. Not be there. Cheer from couch, dress Jeffrey in Russian flag. Very patriotic,” Evgeni says, swallowing hard. Sidney looks at him before leaning up and kissing him, slow and sweet. Evgeni huffs when he pulls away, but Sidney just slumps back against his side and starts stroking his stomach again, muttering things under his breath, and he finds it hard to really care about much else.

*

They decide they won’t announce anything, beyond what’s been announced. Evgeni will be put on extended IR and give birth in New York, because Pittsburgh isn’t the best place for that… but Sidney will be there for it, he _promises_ , so it’s okay. They make plans for him to be cut open on July 4th, Sidney sniggering when Dr. Guerrera gives them the date.

“What funny?” he asks, as Sidney tries to sort himself out when they leave. 

“It’s just… a Canadian-Russian baby being born on Independence Day?” He dissolves into honking giggles again, and Evgeni takes a beat to wonder how he got involved with such a dork, returning to suck on his chocolate milkshake as they head for the airport. He’s got the worst cravings for chocolate, hitting him face-first the day after he told Sidney about the baby. He’s trying to regulate his intake, but the kind of relief he gets when the taste hits his tongue is better than any high he’s ever had. Besides, he’s more worried about the fact his parents are due to arrive soon, staying for a few weeks; like they do every year.

*~*

He insists Sidney’s around a few days after they arrive and get over the jetlag, Evgeni sticking with his usual public wardrobe of baggy hoodies and loose-fitting sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His mama has given him a few sharp looks when he’s turned down food he can’t eat, but she’s still out of it, so it’s not so bad-- until he refuses to drink the coffee she makes. They usually drink tea anyway, so he’s got no idea what this coffee move is meant to be, but he shakes his head and says, “No thanks, Mama” and turns back to his phone. She slams her palm down on the counter, making him jump and drop it.

Sidney’s over because they have an event at the club to attend that night, both of them worrying how Evgeni’s supposed to pull off a fucking suit with his stomach like it is. The words ‘corset’ and ‘Spandex’ have been thrown around a worrying amount. 

“Zhenya, what the hell is going on?! No seafood, no coffee, you’re eating chocolate so much you’re the size of a house!” she exclaims, her hand waving to encompass the physical mess that is her son. Evgeni droops a little, but takes Sidney’s hand and squeezes it. He’d come to stand beside him when she started yelling, and Evgeni’s so glad he’s there. 

“Mama… uh, I have something… I mean-- shit, okay. Look, you’re going to be a grandma. Except a little, uh different than normal,” he says, and stands up, pulling up his hoodie and twisting to the side. He bites his lip, watching as her face goes slack. 

The world freezes for a few heartbeats, every second like torture to him, before Mama bursts into tears and Papa, who walks in carrying an empty cup and a newspaper tucked under his arm, looks like he’s been slapped across the face.

“Zhenya, what--” he starts, but Mama comes over and palms his stomach, bending over so she can kiss it. It feels really fucking bizarre and uncomfortable, and he shoots Sidney a look, gripping his hand so tightly it must be hurting, but he’s so terrified he can’t bear to move or let go.

“Oh, my stupid boy… both of you _stupid boys_ ,” she gets out through her tears, going up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Evgeni’s neck and reel him in, kissing his cheeks and jaw. He feels exhausted from the effort, but Papa does the same and he stoops over, wincing. His body aches from the baby, but it’s the last things on his mind as his parents tell him they’re here for him-- for _both_ of them. Sidney still doesn’t let go. 

“This boy, Zhenya, what are you going to do with him? He can’t feed you properly, and neither of you know how to take care of a baby,” Mama says, kissing Sidney’s cheeks next and hugging him close while Papa latches onto Evgeni again and squeezes hard. It’s making him dizzy how well they seem to be taking it; the fear that was so suffocating for so long just trickling away, while joy and contentedness seep into his very bones.

“Do you know what it is?” they ask, once everyone’s calmed down and retreated to the lounge room. Sidney’s sitting besides Evgeni, licking at his lips while they communicate in Russian, looking worried.

“They ask if we know what baby is,” Evgeni translates for Sidney, who pulls a face.

“Do we want to know?” he asks cautiously. Evgeni knows it’d kill Sidney in so many ways if he didn’t know, so he just rolls his eyes and turns back to his parents.

“Not yet, but we’re going to find out,” he says, nodding. 

Mama starts making a truly terrifying list of supplies, hunching over his laptop and jabbing at the keys while Papa turns back to his newspaper, cutting in occasionally to curb his wife’s overwhelming demands of her son’s wallet. Evgeni doesn’t even care as he flips through and lands on an old Steelers game, settling next to Sidney and letting him palm his stomach.

*

He smells a rat when Sidney tells him he’s moving in after the Olympic break, of which Evgeni has to spend watching on the couch as Canada lift the gold. He’s so proud of Sidney but he knows if he was on the ice, if he’d only been there to score the goals Russia couldn’t score without him-- things would have definitely gone down differently. He can’t be too mad as he looks down at his stomach, Jeffrey huffing from the floor and Sidney skating across the ice, deliriously happy and lugging along a flag that’s bigger than he is.

“That’s your papa, darling. Your papa just won gold for his country-- for your country… well, half your country,” he whispers, fingers dragging along the swell above his hips. Sidney calls him twenty minutes later, sobbing and talking too fast for him to follow, but he manages to tell him congratulations and makes Sidney promise to call later. It’s not enough, in some ways, but in others it is. It’s more than enough. 

When the Olympians get back from Vancouver, the Canadians grinning with their medals and the others trudging behind, Sidney tells him his plans over breakfast as he kisses the crumbs off Evgeni’s mouth and hauls them to Mario’s shortly after. 

Evgeni just glares at Mario the entire time; the knowing smile on his face just proves it.

“You just want Sid gone,” Evgeni sulks goodnaturedly, back in his hoodie that apparently hides nothing, while a removalist tramps through the Lemieux mansion, taking Sidney’s belongings to the truck outside. He knew Sidney would want to move in eventually, but figured they’d keep separate houses for appearances or something. It occurs to him there’s so much they haven’t discussed, bumbling their way through it like the children they still are, but it seems to be working so far.

“You’ll never know,” Mario teases, while Nathalie swoops in and demands he come have a look at some of their leftovers in case they need anything.

Sidney doesn’t bring too much at the end of it -- some furniture, half a library of war history books, a DVD collection that dwarfs his own and particular brands of _everything_ that Evgeni needs to make a list on the fridge whiteboard just to remember. It’s not bad at all, though. The clothes that fit in the empty half of his wardrobe, and the supplies on the vanity next to his make him feel filled and happy in places he hadn’t even realised felt empty.

It’s even better when he wakes up one morning, a few days after Sidney’s moved in, to find his dick standing to attention and Sidney slowly rubbing against him in his sleep, his face buried in the space between Evgeni’s neck and shoulder. 

“Thank God,” Evgeni whispers, sending up a silent prayer, before turning Sidney onto his back and sucking him down slow and wet, getting a hand around himself at the same time. Sidney wakes up shortly before coming, punching its way out of him, before Evgeni straddles him, his sleep tee rucked up from Sidney’s fingers and his cock blood-flushed and leaking.

“G, your dick--” Sidney sounds dazed and reaches out for him, and it takes four tugs before Evgeni’s coating Sidney’s bare chest, groaning like he’s been stabbed. He hasn’t orgasmed in over five months and fuck if it isn’t the _best feeling ever_. He keeps enough of his wits to flop as gently as he can manage on his side, his chest heaving from the effort.

“Fuck,” he says, and Sidney laughs and kisses him, as if it’s the most amusing part of his morning. Knowing Sidney’s boring life, it probably will be.

*

Sidney isn’t able to join Evgeni at the OB GYN until just before he hits six months. It doesn’t matter so much; Ksenia or Seryozha go with him, the latter out for a month with a knee injury, fussing over him like an old man. He’s been holding off finding out what it is until they’re both there, and he has no regrets at all as Sidney’s fingers clutch his so hard they turn red when Dr. Guerrera tells him they’re going to have a boy. He doesn’t let go until they get outside, pulling their jackets on and Sidney doesn’t say anything until after the charter has touched down in Pittsburgh, driving back to their house.

“A boy,” he finally says, and Evgeni nods, a hand on his stomach. It’s big enough now that he can do that, rest his hand there for a long time without it falling off. He’s had chronic heartburn for the past few weeks, which fucking sucks because rich food is the only thing nice left in his life, and he’s been living on carbs and chocolate and rabbit food ever since. 

His body fat percentage is shot to shit, and he’s caught himself pinching his sides in the morning before he showers, shaking himself out of it. He’s still doing yoga and walking every day, in an effort to combat getting too unhealthy, but he’s trying to enjoy being pregnant-- what parts of it he can, anyway. The athlete inside him is crying at the state of himself, but the impending father is so happy that it drowns out anything else.

*

The team want to throw him a baby shower as soon as they find out that Sidney and Evgeni know what they’re having.

“It’s too early, you’re supposed to wait until eight months or after,” Sidney whines half-heartedly one night they’ve got off while Evgeni cooks the steak. Tanger, Flower, Jordy and TK have come over for dinner-- or an intervention of some kind, he can’t really tell the difference.

“As if it matters, c’mon! Let’s have a baby shower! We can do it next week-- we’re between games, and we can convince Coach to give us the day off practise if we invite him!” TK says excitedly. Sidney leans over to try and get Evgeni to help, but he just shrugs and smiles.

Barry calls to say there’s been no leaks to the press about his condition, which Evgeni is mostly happy about. Russia haven’t said anything or asked weird questions either, and it feels almost too perfect-- how can nobody know he’s pregnant? How can nobody be asking what he’s doing or where he is? 

“Because you’re injured, and they only care when it happens or when you’re coming back. Stop complaining and be happy I don’t have to work harder,” Barry sighs down the phone, hanging up shortly after. Evgeni mutters some curses in his general direction when they finish, shuffling to the fridge and looking for some milk to melt his favourite chocolate into.

“You’re gonna get pimples,” Sidney calls from the living room, and Evgeni glares at the cold, inviting bottle of milk.

“Don’t care, want chocolate drink. You can worry about my ugly face,” he snaps back, unable to resist the smile when he hears Sidney explode into laughter, scaring Jeffrey into joining Evgeni in the kitchen, whuffling at his feet.

*~*

The shower doesn’t happen until he’s seven months, a compromise reached between Sidney and the team, and Evgeni gets his parents back over and Sidney’s parents come down for it as well, which doesn’t help with the whole ‘keeping it quiet’ aspect. There’s been rumblings online that someone in the team is expecting, after a fan takes a photo of Seryozha and Ksenia at Babies ‘R’ Us buying a ridiculous bouncer and miles of blue wrapping paper. The beat writers start asking the guys after games who’s pregnant, but everyone’s locked down and it doesn’t move. Evgeni really fucking loves his team.

The day of the shower is nice enough; it’s April and almost the end of the season, so everyone’s exhausted and battered but cruising off a win against the Thrashers. Sidney’s been distracted with hockey but Ksenia’s been around more, helping Evgeni out with house and trying to get the nursery organised. He doesn’t want to buy anything until after the baby shower, because god knows their team is going to go to excess. She keeps calling him Fatty, which is cruel, he tells her around the straw in his mouth, which just makes her laugh harder.

He’s living in team sweatpants and Lululemon right now; there isn’t a male pregnancy clothing line, so he’s just buying shirts a few sizes up and hoping no fans catch him leaving his house, the few times that he does. He’s been lucky so far; the media and general public think he’s in hiding back in Russia, and he circulates between a few people’s houses to keep from going stir crazy while Sidney’s away. 

As a result, he spends the baby shower in tights -- they’re yoga pants, more compression than anything and they keep his bits all in the right places -- and an oversized Pens t-shirt, with thick socks keeping his feet warm since his circulation is shot and he’s always cold. His hair’s a mess so he just wears a cap on backwards when he opens the door to the first guests, who happen to be Flower and Tanger, holding a huge gift that overshadows them.

“Jesus, what did you idiots do?” Sidney calls from further down the corridor, a huge Tupperware of marinade steak in his arms, as Evgeni steps aside and kisses Vero’s cheek, trying not to blush as she rubs his stomach and coos something in French.

 

It’s more of the same when the rest of the team arrives, spilling into the backyard while Sidney and Duper fight over the grill. Mario and Coach Dan show up with their families and Jeffrey’s beside himself at all the new people to smell, Dixi having long since hidden in the depths of the house, uncomfortable with the additions to her areas. He's a little worried about Sidney's parents being there -- he knows there was a huge argument when Sidney told them he was going to be a father, both of them unhappy about how young he is and the distraction from hockey, but they seem to have come around. They both hug him and Trina rubs his tummy and kisses his cheeks, and Sidney stands to the side and looks like he's going to burst with happiness.

He complains about being uncomfortable and how it’s all Sidney’s fault, between eating everything in sight and trying not to cry over the wonderful presents. He’s beat by the end of it, Sidney on door-duty as he starts to take things upstairs. The wives and girlfriends spend the afternoon asking him questions and swapping stories and tips, which he appreciates-- no, he _loves_ , and misses that extra warmth and knowledge as they leave. It’s a great future support base though, and he knows he won’t be wanting for anything. 

Seryozha drags him aside in the kitchen toward the end, after hovering in his periphery, clutching at his drink and fumbling for words.

“I'm glad you kept the baby, Zhenya. It would've been no good if you didn't. You're so happy now, it's sickening," he says, and Evgeni rolls his eyes but can't help the smile that spreads across his face.

“I'm sorry I sicken you, old man. Forgotten what happiness looks like?" Evgeni chirps, and laughs when he's hauled into a headlock, his cap going flying as Seryozha ruffles his hair and pulls away, finishing his drink.

“For what it's worth, if I'm not godfather I'm asking Mario to trade you to Florida," he says as they walk into the living room, everyone milling around and talking at once. Evgeni barks out a laugh and heads to Sidney, where he's holding court and drawing what looks like plays on an Etch-A-Sketch that TK gave them.

“Not toy for you, toy for baby," Evgeni scolds, poking his tongue out the corner of his mouth when Sidney looks suitably shamefaced. The others just roll their eyes and ask him if the play will work for their upcoming game, and Evgeni sighs and leans over Sidney's shoulder, squinting at the wobbly lines.

They end up having to wedge the door to the nursery shut because there’s just so much shit from everyone, but he’s so happy his team are being as supportive as they are. When they fall into bed that night, Sidney cuddling up behind and rubbing his stomach while he yawns and snuffles into his pillow, Sidney vocalises the same thoughts, kissing the back of his neck.

“Team best,” Geno echoes, and Sidney chuckles as Evgeni links their fingers together.

*

They’re supposed to be in New York from early May, because anything after that means Evgeni won’t be able to fly. Sidney can’t join him until after playoffs, if they’re even still in them, and as guilty as Sidney looks about it, Evgeni just rolls his eyes and goes about finding up an apartment in the suburbs. Jeffrey’s unimpressed with the new surroundings, but Evgeni’s too pregnant to be worried about his dog’s opinions.

“Deal with it, baby coming, need to happen,” he scolds in English, smiling sheepishly as the real estate agent catches him telling off his animal. Whatever, she’s being paid a king’s ransom by the club and was forced to sign an NDA before they’d even take her on, so. He’s not so worried about her running off to Deadspin and People magazine to sell his story-- _crazy Russian hockey player speaks to dog while finding pregnant love nest_.

He spends his days on the couch in the lead up watching Russian soaps and eating bad food, doing yoga when he can be bothered and wrapping around his body pillows to make up for Sidney’s loss when the team leave Pittsburgh for games. When he’s around it’s more fun, someone to talk to, but people are constantly coming around, bringing children and food and stories to keep him company. He’s half-thinking about going to New York early, just so he can start walking around again-- he’s too scared now in case any fans recognise him.

He watches every game though, as painful as it is not to be out on the ice with them, and cheers crazily when they win their first series against the Senators and march onto the semifinals against the Canadiens, a heartbreaking 4-3 loss that he knows Sidney will be beating himself up about for ages. It tears at him-- the guilt and sadness at his team losing in the playoffs, him not there on the ice to help. It’s just like the Olympics, and it’s only their son kicking in his stomach that remotely helps to alleviates the feelings. 

Sidney barely speaks the night after the Canadiens series loss, coming home and going straight to bed, and Evgeni curls around him and waits for him to break. It’s not until morning when he wakes up to Sidney’s face tucked against his hip, talking about why it’ll be better next season when both his papas are playing, that he hopes Sidney doesn’t catch him crying. Fucking hormones. 

They stay in Pittsburgh to watch the Flyers take the Eastern conference finals, before packing up their gear and getting on their charter to New York, setting themselves up in the apartment Evgeni had found out for the final stretch. 

“Good,” Sidney says savagely as Kane sinks the winner in OT in early June, streaking off down the ice towards his goalie, the rest of the team chasing after him.

“They deserve, good Final,” Evgeni agrees, petting Jeffrey’s head.

*

The next four weeks pass at a glacial pace. Sidney goes to work out every morning and the weather heats up as summer presses at their edges, the sunlight lasting longer and warming Evgeni to his bones. He’s so big now, rounded and soft, his body filling out around the baby to look better proportioned all over. He’s taken so many pictures; mostly for longevity, and partly because it’s nice not to see ribs and knobbly angles for once. He’s just happy he’s allowed out in public again, going for long walks around the neighbourhood and picking up little bits and pieces for the baby when he goes shopping.

Taylor and Trina arrive at the end of June, and he makes the effort to lever himself out the couch to greet them when Sidney brings them from the airport, announcing their arrival.

“Holy hell Geno, you’re huge! You sure there’s not two babies in there?” Taylor questions, smiling as Evgeni bends down to kiss her cheek and lets her rub his stomach. 

“Nope, just one. Fat baby, like Sid. Tall baby, like me,” he chirps, laughing as Sidney swats at his arm and takes his mother’s bags. Evgeni’s parents are due to arrive tomorrow, Denis even coming along this time, and Troy joining them after the baby’s born. 

The house is full and busy once more, and the baby gets more mobile as if in response, kicking him constantly, between tossing and turning. Tayor’s fascinated, spending ages watching Evgeni’s stomach move at night when they’re on the couch, Sidney’s hand pressed alongside the curve of his hip. 

“Crosby so weird with baby,” Evgeni grumbles, and Taylor mumbles something but keeps watching. He thinks maybe he’ll be pregnant for the rest of his life if this is what it gets him.

*

It’s 8:30 at night on July 3rd; they’re eating a late dinner after going to a movie when Evgeni drops his knife and fork with a clatter, his hands flying to his stomach.

“Geno?” Sidney asks, and Evgeni moans as he feels his water break. It’s bizarre, like he’s peeing and unable to stop it, but the OB GYN said this would happen if he went into labour before the c-section date, so he’s somewhat prepared. 

He braces himself against the table as Taylor and their mothers fly from their seats to get to him, and he manages to stand up up on his own, trying to clear some space for himself.

“I-- is okay, water… uhm, baby coming. Need change, then hospital.”

He refuses to let them help him to his bedroom, instructing Sidney to find his overnight bag buried somewhere underneath the baby supplies in the corner of the lounge room. His mother and Trina clean the mess on the floor while Taylor hovers nervously. He gets through a shower and changes into a pair of sweats and a Pens hoodie he plucks off Sidney’s pile, jamming his feet into sneakers and taking a cap for good measure, just in case. 

He stops in front of the mirror in his bedroom, and pulls out his camera to snap some last pictures. It still looks weird-- he’s still so tall and thin but his body has filled out, softening and fattening up around his belly and his midsection, his ass so much bigger than before -- even bigger than Sidney’s, now. He’ll miss this body. 

 

The rest passes in a rush; driving to the maternity ward of the hospital, meeting with Dr. Guerrera, whom Sidney had called when he was showering, and getting into the scrubs.

“Only one family member in the operating room,” a nurse says to him, and he glances at the gathering of family. Sidney looks like he’s going to defer, saying something stupid like his mother should go instead, but Evgeni’s hand reaches out and laces with his fingers, tugging him close. 

“Come,” he says, and the relief breaks over Sidney’s face like a cascade, unable to mask it as his shoulders sag and the smile spreads. Evgeni shakes his head, his stupid Canadian.

 

He’s put on an operating table and numbed, a divider up just under his chest so he can’t see anything. Sidney’s in scrubs just like him, clutching at his hand while the doctors work, but able to see the action as they slice him open, reaching inside him to pull out their little boy, screaming and red and wrinkled and _perfect_ , born at midnight exactly on July 4th. 

“Do you have a name?” one of the nurses asks as he hands the bundle to Evgeni while they stitch him back together, Sidney’s face as red as his son’s as he tries to take photos, still unsteady with Geno’s camera.

“Patrick,” Evgeni says, never more sure of anything in his life. They’d discussed a little before, over what names they wanted, and Evgeni’s always been partial to Sidney’s middle name. He likes the idea-- he’ll have a traditional Russian middle name, of course, and both their last names, but this is right. Sidney looks like he’s been slapped and starts crying as Evgeni hands the baby to him and tries to take a photo, his hands shaking until the same nurse plucks the phone out and takes one for them.

*

The media find out Evgeni gave birth to Sidney’s baby two weeks later, after a fan gets a picture of them on a walk in their neighbourhood, Patrick pressed against Sidney’s chest as Evgeni leans in and kisses his head. They start overreacting, of course -- but not about the gay thing, or even the male pregnancy thing.

Instead, Patrick is heralded as the next savior of hockey; a perfect meld of Russian and Canadian hockey genes that will result in a player that will overshadow Gretzky himself. Sidney shows Evgeni the blog entries on Puck Daddy and Deadspin as he feeds Patrick the next morning, laughing at the bylines. 

“So stupid, writing about our baby,” Evgeni mutters, stroking a finger along Patrick’s cheek as he guzzles greedily at the bottle. He doesn’t ever want to get sick of looking at him. 

He’s got a thick head of black hair and Sidney’s skin tone, a beautiful little mouth and solid, healthy legs and arms. He’s long, like Evgeni was, and heavy, like Sidney was. The best of both of them, the doctor had said the first time she came into his room, floating in a haze of pain medication and delirious happiness. 

“Our perfect baby, you mean,” Sidney replies, leaning in to kiss him, dropping one on Patrick’s head before heading out to take Jeffery for a run. 

Evgeni looks down at Patrick, and yeah-- he is perfect. The moment is broken when his phone rings and it's Seryozha, greeting him with laughter when he picks up.

“How's my godson-- I mean, the future saviour of hockey?" he chirps, and Evgeni rolls his eyes and looks back down at the baby, yawning in his arms.

“He's doing just fine, old man. When are you going to give your mother another grandbaby to dote over?" he fires back, smirking when he starts groaning and a flurry of hysterical Russian floats down the line.

“You knew my mother is here, you bastard-- no, Mama, _there's no baby_ \-- Christ, I told you--"

He hangs up laughing and gently pulls the empty teet from Patrick's mouth, burping him and taking him to the nursery. He stands there, watching him sleep until Sidney comes back, huffing and sweaty from his run. Evgeni doesn't know what state his dog is going to be in downstairs; probably half-dead.

“Everything okay?" he asks, and Evgeni nods and leans over, dropping a kiss on his lips.

“Perfect," he echoes from before, and Sidney grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Title jacked from _Borrow My Heart_ by Taylor Henderson.


End file.
